


32 Gold Balloons

by TrexReach100



Series: The Lardo & Shitty Chronicles [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Lardo is low key twitterpated, Shitty is the King of grand gestures, the boys re-imagined as balloons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 18:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10418088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrexReach100/pseuds/TrexReach100
Summary: If Lardo can't come to the Haus party, the Haus party will come to Lardo...or 32 bits of it at least.





	

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  This fic is based off of a picture from a [Social Media edit](http://fanaste.tumblr.com/tagged/omglardo) I did.  
> **edit** decided to add the picture at the top in case anyone wanted to see it without having to travel to a new page

* * * 

“Lardooooo!”

“Shitty?” Lardo’s voice floats across the studio.  Essentially a building the size of a hangar with a mezzanine level to display the latest sculpture of the year Shitty makes his way up to the first floor winding his way around the maze of partitions, decorated and hung with everyone’s offerings for the end of year exhibit.

“Marco!” He calls the smell of turpentine tickling his nose.

“Polo!” Lardo’s voice sounds both closer and further away.

He gives a wide berth to a particularly severe looking sculpture made of ragged corrugated sheet metal.  Shitty spares a moment to think about how painful that would be to fall into and reminds himself to keep an eye on Nursey that afternoon.  “Marco!”

“Polo- woah.” Lardo rounds the wall of her cubby her dark eyes widening as she takes in Shitty standing there not just in his favourite American flag waistcoat and flow held back by a hairband he stole from her, but also with a bunch of Gold balloons.  Shitty smiles the moment he sees her, well, smiles more because he’s been thinking about her on the walk over and smiling to himself like a psycho.

“What’s this? Did Chowder get suckered again?”

Shitty smiles- even more.  “Nope this is all me.  For you.”

Rather than step back to admire the arrangement Lardo ducks under his arm and tries to wedge herself in the centre of it, tipping her head back to look up.  Shitty raises his arm to help.  “S’wasome.”

The gold illuminates her face making her look like sunshine.  “There are no balloons in my art though Shits.”

“These are a gift.” He rolls his eyes good naturedly.  When she emerges from beneath the bunch her hair is static sticking to some of the balloons.  She looks like Einstein is he was female, more beautiful and Vietnamese.

She tries to pat her hair down but some of the balloons are stubborn.

“You bought me balloons?”

Shitty is surprised by her surprise.  He’s bought her way weirder things; like the salt shaker that sang when you shook it, the shower cap shaped like a duck, the soap shaped like Elvis.  “Yeah.”

Lardo takes them and Shitty feels the relief of gravity after fighting with the helium for so long.  He hopes she notices that the weight is a puck.  He got Dex to drill a hole in it so he could tie the strings round without them slipping off.  He didn’t want any of these bad boys getting away.

“Haha cool.” She says when she notices the puck.  “Did you do that?”

“Gotta give props to our resident handyman Poindexter.”

“It’s a good thing he came along.”

“That beautiful bastard is a gift from the universe.”

“Chowder didn’t see did he?”

Kid won’t even touch a puck outside of the rink, Shitty has no idea what he’d do if he saw Dex ‘repurposing’ one.  “We made sure the coast was clear of his superstitious little ass.”

Lardo finally looks at him and her mouth is curved up into a beautiful full smile. Her cheeks are a little rosy and when she says, “Thanks bro.” It doesn’t sound as casual as usual, it sounds like…something Shitty might want to hear rather than what he might actually be hearing.

Shitty shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Oh!” He ducks out from under the strap of his bag and crouches on the ground to rummage through it.  “I got food too.” He pulls out two tubs and waves the first one, “Pie for after.” He wiggles the second and whatever’s inside rattles, “Brownies for firsts.” He peels the lid back revealing four perfectly cut brownies.

Lardo’s grin is feline.  “You didn’t…?”

“I put in a special order with Bitty and offered to do the washing up for a month.” Lardo holds her fist out for a bump which Shitty accepts feeling the usual tantalising zing as their skin touches.  He’s slow to draw his fist back, tempted to grab her hand instead, to lace their fingers together and pull her in to kiss her like he’s dreamt of doing since they met.  Ever since she scared the shit out of him in the storage cupboard.

But instead of ruining everything by giving in to his base feelings he lets his hand dive into the brownie box and draw one out.  “Also he was super bummed you were missing the party.”

Shitty proffers a brownie to her.  Lardo surprises him by taking a bite of it when it’s still in his hand, like he’s offered to feed her.  Shitty adjusts his stance and tries not to flush as he thinks about what it would be like to feed Lardo.  He most certainly does not imagine what her lips would feel like on his fingers or how he would love to chase the crumbs that fall down her chest with his mouth.

God what if they were naked?

No! He cannot think about it, that’s not the point of this and it’s not fair either.  Lardo is his best bro and deserves better than that.

He clears his throat and to cover up any tell tale signs of his errant thoughts,0 shoves the rest of the brownie in his mouth.

“Dude,” she laughs, “you’re such an animal.”

Not to mention he’s gonna be super high in the next half hour.  He growls.

Lardo sinks down and grabs a bean bag out from under her workstation.  She beckons to Shitty once she’s seated and he slots himself between her legs letting his back rest against her chest.  Her arms are warm against his shoulders, his head tucked neatly just beneath her chin, her soft small breasts make a handy neck pillow.  “Oh hey,” her voice tickles over his ear, “There are thirty two of them.”

“You’re lucky number right?”

“Yeah.” He can hear the smile in her voice.  “Hang on I’m gonna take a picture.” She gropes blindly behind her and grabs her phone.  Her body curves to fit his when she leans forwards, her soft chest pressing into the back of his head, her knees drawn up and biceps pressing firmly into his as she takes the picture.  Shitty feels safe here.  The scent of her- expiring deodorant and strawberry fruit roll ups- the feel of her thin limbs against his, the way her knees press into his sides, it all grounds Shitty in the present.  Graduation, law school, even playoffs, they’re all in a future he can’t worry about when she holds him.

“Done.” She says, “What do you think?”

It takes him a moment to answer, to realise that she’s talking to him.  He’s so busy focusing on how he feels that the rest of his senses have taken a time out…also the brownie’s kicking in.  “Of your photo?”

She pinches his nose.  “Of the paintings.”

“I think they’re fucking beautiful.” He sighs dreamily.  Lardo’s fight for corner studio space was a well documented saga.  Like dibs with the house the art students have an unofficial (with very official paperwork and a complicated application system) selection process when it comes to passing on premium studio spaces.  Corner spaces are for those who liken themselves to Monet, Van Gogh,  and a bunch of other artists who found fame only after they’d died and stopped freaking people out.

Every graduating year there was no ordinary shuffle round, no moving from the front to the back, no first come first served.  Lardo had to petition for her little corner spot and she’d petitioned hard.

_“I don’t care if this drives me crazy! I don’t care if I have to drink paint and trip balls while I draw Shitty! I am going to get that corner space!”_

She did mock interviews at the Haus and everything.  When Shitty decided to give her dibs he told himself there would be no auditions, no outrageous tasks.  There wouldn’t be not just because he’d seen what it had done to her to jump through the hoops set up by power tripping graduating artists, but because Lardo was his best girl, his best buddy in the entire world.  Getting dibs was just logical.

As he looks at the paintings, the curving lines, the crosshatching on portraits, the generous mottled sweep of oils on her early drafts he thinks not for the first time since they met _‘Lardo is fucking amazing’_.  She is so talented and it’s like she doesn’t even have to try.

_‘Careful with that pedestal man’_ He warns himself.

“…Really?”

“Yeah of course.” Shitty doesn’t understand why she sounds so uncertain, like she doesn’t know she’s the most talented person he’s ever met, in the universe probably – that doesn’t feel like a stretch.  “Lardo your art is fucking, like, inspiring.  You’re use of colour, composition, subject,” he points to the picture that looks like him.  It’s not supposed to look like him but Lardo made him sit for it ‘to get the proportions right’.  Dutifully he sat very still even though he had a crazy intense urge to itch.  At the end she turned it round and though it didn’t look like him he could see himself in it and he blushed.  Then when she was done she offered to paint him a version on his belly.

He was glad just to get to lie down until it started tickling like crazy.

“You’re just saying that because that one looks like you.”

“Probably.” He grins.  “But it’s still true.  Lardo you are a true artist.”

“Anyone can learn to draw.”

“Yeah and anyone can learn to play hockey but the greats have talent man.  You have more talent in your tiny finger than I have in my entire body.”

“Shit’s you’re talented.”

He snorts.  It sounds funny.  “At what?” He lets his head fall back and when she replies her jaw bumps the top of it.

“Hockey.”

“Anyone can learn to play hockey.”

“Frozen Four bro.  Frozen.  Four.” Shitty sniffs dismissively.  Lardo pinches his nose again, “Shut up man I’m not feeding your ego.  You’re talented at lots of things.  Like tub juice.”

That was true.  Tub juice mixing, like baking, required patience, the ability to read his terrible handwriting and a total disregard for your ones own safety.  Cautious and sensible people couldn’t make it as potent as Shit’s did and that in itself must have been a talent because who, in their right mind, would drink something that tasted like toilet cleaner.  Long after he died someone was going to make a lot of money selling his recipe.

“Like Van Gogh.” He whispers to himself.

This time Lardo grabs a brownie and reaches round to give him some, but instead of taking it with his hand he does like she did earlier and eats a bit from her hand.  Lardo is slow to withdraw and beneath him it feels like she’s stopped breathing.  He thinks about apologising for crossing the line, making a joke about it like she isn’t his mother duck and he should learn to eat like a human and not an animal but the chirping of her phone saves them both.

Lardo’s chest finally moves with her chuckle.

“What?”

“Bitty and Holster are singing Beyoncé to us.”

Shitty smiles fondly.  That little Beyoncé loving, super baking sunshine child is a god damn treasure and he doesn’t know what his life would look like without Bitty.

Pie less for sure.

Lardo kicks a pallet knife away with her foot and sighs.  “I wish I was at the party. I’ve got so much to do.” She eyes the brownies in the box, “I won’t get any of it done if I eat any more of those.”

“Mental health break!” Shitty declares way too loudly.  “You’ve been here forever.  In fact,” he turns in her arms so he can see her face and she can feel the full effect of his concerned bro scolding his best bro look.  He gives her a cursory up and down trying to remember if he saw her in those clothes yesterday.  She’s wearing a giant grey sweater and some jeans and he does recognise them from yesterday because he remembered thinking she looked small in that jumper.  So small he could roll her up in it and sneak her into Harvard in his suitcase.  “Did you sleep here?”

She flushes guiltily.  “I might have.  Sleeping on a bean bag when you’re not shitfaced is hella uncomfortable.”

“Lardo.” He tries not to sound scolding, she’s a grown woman and can make her own decisions but concern wins out.  Concern over her posture, the muscular integrity of her spine, about all of her.  Art is important to Lardo, as important as Hockey is to Jack and it’s hard but he’d hate to see her get so frazzled by the process that she falls out of love with it.  Shitty would never be arrogant enough to suppose he knows what her purpose in life is and maybe it won’t be art but right now Lardo thinks it is, wants it to be, needs it to be to show her parents that an arts major isn’t a precursor to spending her days asking _‘do you want fries with that?’._ So Shitty tells her it is, brings her food when she’s locked in a creative vortex, always has a bowl ready for her when she needs a new perspective.

“Take a break.  Party with the boys.” He crawls towards the balloons.

“I can’t go back to the Haus.  I’ll never leave then I’ll get drunk and be too hungover to be productive tomorrow.”

Shitty makes a groaning noise as he drags the balloons towards them.  Once again they’re bathed in the golden glow of thirty two balloons which sounds like a lot and is.  All fighting for space amongst themselves they hang low over Shitty and Lardo’s heads.  “I know,” He says, “you can’t go back to the Haus but-“ he wiggles his fingers for her phone and she hands it over without hesitation, “-the Haus can come to you.”  Thumbing through her apps he draws her playlist up and hits play on the one he needs.  Immediately Beyoncé echoes around them.  “Got a marker?”

Lardo turns on the bean bag rummages in her workstation drawer and retrieves a thick marker.  Shitty takes it, draws down a balloon and sets the pen to it.

“What are you doing?”

The squeak of the pen on rubber as he draws is the only answer he gives.  Lardo taps her foot to the music and starts to mouth along to the words.  Shitty turns the balloon with a grin and she bursts out laughing.

“Is that Nursey?”

“Yeah.”

The balloon has a face; two eyes, a nose and a mouth dotted with Nursey’s trademark forty year old man stubble.  “What’s that on his head?”

“His tattoo.  There’s no arm to draw on so I put it round his forehead like a headband.”

Lardo grins, “He’d love that.  I wanna do one.” She pulls down a balloon for herself and reaches for her own marker.

Together they both draw.  The music, squeaks of linear art and the sniggers at their own hilarity fill up the high ceilinged studio.

Lardo reveals her illustration first.  “Guess who.”

 “Oh man it looks just like him,” Shitty guffaws.  “you got his fringe bit right – oh and his distinctive eyes! Take a picture and send it to Bitty to show him.  He’d fucking love it.”

“Is that Bitty?”

“Yeah.  You think his eyes are big enough?”

“Could be bigger.”

Shitty nods and draws a bigger circle.  He frowns, “I fucked it up.”

“We got plenty more balloons.” Lardo giggles.

Shitty starts again.  “There.”

“Perfect dude.” Lardo takes balloon Bitty puts him in front of her face and says, “Hey y’all.”

Shitty finds this so hilarious he rolls backwards his lungs shuddering so hard he seriously worries that he’s going to suffocate.  God damn Lardo’s hilarious.  He makes her do it again and they put it on snap chat.  Bitty texts her something that is probably supposed to be insulting but is so drunkenly misspelt it’s gobblededook.  Two seconds later there’s a snap chat alert and it’s Bitty pretending to be Lardo and Ransom pretending to be Shitty.  He’s got a bit of Cait’s hair tucked between his nose and his scrunched upper lip and every time he moves she wobbles in and out of frame.

“Motherfucking beautiful!” Ransom shouts, “Motherfuckerrrrrrrrr!”

The camera pans to Bitty who has on Lardo’s purple shutter shades and he’s pursing his lips to keep from laughing when he says, “Dude.” Then he belches in a very un-Bitty like way and says, hardly moving his lips, “Bro.”

Lardo falls into Shitty’s side laughing.  The pot taking hold, loosening her muscles, frothing up her laughter to bubble easily from her lips.

Soon they’ve got each of the boys tied to different parts of the studio.  Nursey and Dex are tied to the desk behind them, Bitty and Jack are both tethered together using Shitty’s shoe, Chowder is pinned to the corkboard with all her paintings,

_“Even his balloon smile is uplifting.”_ Shitty had said.

Holster gets loose because Shitty decides to sing three little maids from school in Holsters over pronounced accent and Lardo laughs so hard she chokes on her own spit.  Shitty, in his rush to save her life by pounding her on the back, lets go of the string.

They both watch, Lardo watery eyed, as Holster floats away and bounces into the roof.

“Ransom to the rescue!” Lardo sends Justin ‘Ballooransi’ up after Holster.

Shitty wipes away a tear, “That’s beautiful.”

“Er Shits, are you okay?”

“I just,” he sniffs wetly, “Rans and Holtz are like, not even two people.  They’re one mind in two bodies- like that show! - and it’s like they breathe in tandem and so when Holster exhales Ransom inhales and like when Rans is all crazy and shuddering under a desk freaking out Holster just like…I dunno man he just knows how to look after him.”

Lardo nods knowingly.  “Coral Reef.”

“Yeah but Holster protects the Coral Reef so that when the Coral Reef floats away Holster goes after him.”

“…Ransom went after Holster.”

“They’re together now!” He sniffs again and his eyes are glittering with tears.

“Dude you are so fucking high.” She snickers.

Two brownies and a whole pie demolishing later Shitty sinks back into the bean bag.  He reaches out for Lardo and she settles between his legs.  Together they stare at their d-men, round golden God’s up above.  Shitty combs his fingers through Lardo’s hair, the pads lightly scratching her scalp.  Loose from joking and weed she pushes into his hand and they relax like that together, Shitty stroking her hair, winding strands.  He tries a few plaits out.  He’s getting better he notes with pride.

“Love you man.” She hums.

“Love you too Lards.” Shitty sighs.

“Thanks Shits.  This was a s’wasome party.”

Shitty takes a deep breath and exhales suffused with contentment.  “Anything for your Lards.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come and fangirl about omgcheckplease and more with me over at [Fanaste](http://fanaste.tumblr.com)


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